Cottonseed Bloom Poem by Mark Heathcote

Beneath a hot prairie sun
knelt a dying man,
sowing and picking seeds - chains of liberty.
When he closes his eyes,

he hears one of the seeds speaking.
Asking do you rest in sleep like me?
Does your heart wake in fatigue?
Are your roots too—wormy?

Yes, it's the source of all life?
Ah-old-man lay here beside me.
Tell me about all those flowers in the world.
Tell me of all that glorifies.

Ah-old-man, when will you water me?
Cut all that binds and carry my harvest home.
Dear little-seed your green blade
it cuts to me the core; it cuts a hole in me.

For me, it is already midnights-hour.
But soon you'll stretch to the full moon,
and bloom my little disburse flower seed.
And find your solace and freedom,
like my own, a little cottonseed bloom.